Page 32

Nic

The wine cellar is cool, the air thick with the scent of aged oak and dark fruit. Wooden racks line the stone walls, cradling bottles older than I am.

The dim overhead lighting flickers warm, casting soft shadows across Kai’s sharp jawline, his broad shoulders, as he hands me the sixth bottle to place in the cart—without sparing me a glance.

We’ve been home for an hour. An entire hour.

And we still haven’t talked about what he said.

Or maybe—I don’t know how to bring it up.

A part of me is reeling because what if—what if he’s right?

The other part of me wants to scream at him for daring to make me out to be something I’m not.

I never asked you to be one.

The words loop through my mind. But everything he does contradicts them—the way he touches me, the way he sleeps on me, his voice. That gruff, controlled register reserved only for me.

I hate that I don’t hate it. And I hate feeling so transparent while he remains an impenetrable wall.

I pick a random bottle from his collection and turn it over in my hands before saying, deliberately casual, "You know, I'm sure it's amazing how we’re breaking out aged wine for a casual hangout.” I lift a brow. "But I just don’t see the fucking point. Whatever happened to good ol’ beer?"

Kai’s eyes narrow—just a beat. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to my temple. "Wine works better."

I bristle. He just acted like he was humoring me.

Like I’m being cute.

Like I’m his.

Tilting the bottle in my hands, I pretend to study the label even though I couldn’t care less.

"It works better? Because guessing notes of oak and overpriced regret is what makes a party."

Kai hums, seemingly amused, as he pulls another bottle from the rack and hands it to me.

I press on, itching for a fight. "I mean, your friends are filthy rich, so I guess I get the whole pretentious taste, but I just think—"

"I’m rich too,” he interjects. "And I have a singular taste. Expensive as fuck.

"Which is?”

"You.” His eyes gleam like he’s been waiting for me to walk right into this. His gaze drops, then slowly rakes over my bare legs. My hips. His lips finally lock onto mine. "Does that make me pretentious?"

I lift my chin, not about to let him win. "So now I'm your possession?"

"You tell me.” His voice is that rough, knowing timbre—the one that makes my pulse trip over itself.

I gesture between us. "Kai, look, I don’t know what the hell you’re hoping this is—"

Kai plucks the bottles from my limp hands. "Look at me.”

Just like that, everything inside me stills and my breath catches.

I lift my head to meet his dark, knowing gaze.

Kai doesn’t move for a long beat—then he lifts the bottle to his mouth, uncorks it with his teeth and spits out the cork.

A primal heat licks down my spine. I should not find that sexy. I should not.

But when he tilts his head back and takes a slow, deep drink—his throat working as he swallows—my own mouth goes dry.

The muscles in his jaw shift, flexing as he lowers the bottle, then, lazily, he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip.

"You want a taste?"

My skin feels too tight. Something tells me he’s not asking about the wine, but with my racing heart and the low, throbbing ache south of my belly, there can only be one answer to anything he’s offering me right now.

I nod.

"Ask me."

I swallow. My nipples tighten, feeling too sensitive against the fabric of my new silk bra.

"I’d like some wine, please."

Kai takes another drink. This time, he doesn’t wipe away the wine that trickles down the side of his lips—and I find myself licking mine.

He’s waiting for something, I realize. A test, maybe

"Please . . .” My voice breaks, "sir."

Kai’s gaze flashes hot, approval simmering beneath it. "Just Kai is fine, my love."

I nod too fast. "Okay. Please, Kai."

The second his name leaves my lips, something inside me fractures and spills over—a sharp, unbearable pleasure. I squeeze my thighs together.

Kai steps closer until the wine on his breath teases my lips.

"Open your mouth."

A breath shudders out of me as I obey.

Kai lifts the bottle again, takes a deep sip—and doesn’t swallow. He swirls it slowly in his mouth, watching me.

Then,he hands me the bottle, nodding for me to go ahead.

But I don’t. I can’t.

Because I don’t want it from the bottle. I want it from him.

My fingers tighten around the bottle, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. The urge is sick—twisted and obscene—but it claws through me, demanding.

Kai swallows, and I bite back a protest.

His smirk is lazy, knowing. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Like he’s enjoying it.

Slowly, he covers my hands with his and lifts the bottle to his lips again. Another deep drink, throat working—and then—he tilts his head forward.

And spits the wine into my open mouth.

I moan.

It’s decadent. I swallow greedily, my thighs squeezing around nothing.

Kai tilts his head. "You want more?"

I barely recognize my own voice when I whisper, "Please."

Another sip. Another slow, agonizing pass from his mouth to mine.

And again.

Heat floods my core. I’m thrumming, my entire body taut, desperate, strung tight like a wire about to snap.

Kai licks a stray drop from my bottom lip. "Who you are — what you crave when you're with me—doesn’t make you weak. It makes me want to worship you."

The feel of wood against my butt makes me realize he's backed me against the wooden crates. Then, effortlessly, he lifts me onto them, spreads my thighs, then kneels between them.

The sound of tearing lace barely registers before I feel the cool air against my skin.

And then—

There's a trickle of cool wine down my pussy.

I gasp at the slight sting, my body jolting.

And then,his tongue drags up my slit, gathering the wine and my wetness, until he reaches my clit—and sucks it into his mouth.

I scream.

It’s cut off by another sharp gasp when he spreads me wider and pours the wine right over my clit.

My body jerks at the sensation. The sharp sting. The pleasure of his tongue follows.

I fist my hands into his hair, gripping for dear life, my breath coming in broken, gasping pants as he licks, sucks and devours me like his last meal.

"Please, Kai, Daddy, God, please—” My voice is hoarse as I babble.

Kai moans against me, his fingers digging into my thighs, his tongue pushing me closer, higher, dragging me to the edge of something unbearable—

And then—

Footsteps. Voices upstairs.

Kai stops to listen, and I want to scream.

"Hey, Kai, you felon! Get your face off your girlfriend and come out here!” Someone thunders from above.

Kai groans, then drops a peck on my inner thigh before slowly getting to his feet.

Seriously?

"Those crazy fuckers are here.” He smiles, his voice thick with lust.

I jolt. "Wait—what? They’re inside?"

Kai chuckles. "Sounds like it."

I feel murderous. "Don't you lock your doors?"

He shrugs. "Not all the time. Come on."

“But—I—I need—” I gesture in the general direction of my pussy.

Kai, the smug bastard, just belly laughs. Then he presses a kiss to my forehead, his voice dripping with pure male satisfaction. "It’s just a few hours, love. You’ll survive."

The throbbing between my legs suggests otherwise, but he’s already pulling me to my feet and adjusting my dress over my bare ass.

We find Eva perched on the knee of a literal mountain of a man, sipping wine, his braced leg stretched out in front of him.

Eva hops off his good knee and pulls him forward, introducing him as Tom. Tom explains that a torn ACL is keeping him out of the NHL season.

I nod, barely absorbing the words before I’m pulled into a bear hug.

And then the front door bursts open, a gust of snow and rapid-fire German swirling in.

A tall, dark-haired man strides in like a storm—a platter of tiramisu balanced precariously in one hand. He’s mid-argument with someone behind him, voice rich and theatrical, before his gaze lands on me.

He freezes.

"Mein Gott! She’s real!"

Kai barely has time to grab the tiramisu before the man elbows both him and Tom aside and frames my face in gloved hands.

A kiss on my left cheek. Then my right.

"I’m Jerome Arved,” he announces, stepping back like he’s just unveiled the Mona Lisa. "And that—” he throws a pointed look over his shoulder, "is my Leona."

A woman strolls in behind him, heels clicking against the wooden floor, still mid-argument. She’s older than him by at least twenty years, but carries it like a challenge—fiery red hair, an air of effortless glamour, and the kind of presence that commands the room without trying.

I don't realize I’m staring before she pulls me into a sandalwood-scented hug.

"At last,” she purrs, "Kai will finally stop being the fifth wheel."

Tom snickers. "And shall forthwith be welcomed into the adult chat room."

They all laugh. Kai groans, rubbing a hand over his face, like he’s already regretting every decision that led to this moment.

I frown, clearly having missed the joke. "What do you mean?"

"You don’t know?” Eva gasps.

I glance at Kai. "Know what?"

He only shrugs, saying nothing.

Tom’s grin falters as he looks between us. "Please, please, Nic, don’t tell me you haven’t managed to break his five-year celibacy streak."

"What?” I whirl on Kai.

He only pulls me snug against him, then with zero shame, addresses the group. "It's alright guys, you can pack up the vigil equipment. I can confirm that Nic has thoroughly fucked me up."

The room erupts. Cheers. Fist pumps. Leona cackling into her wineglass. Meanwhile, my face goes beet red.

I turn to Kai, pulse hammering as I hiss. “Are you serious? The gym floor was your first time after five years?”

Kai bends, murmuring against my temple. "Why do you think I needed a freezing room and a punching bag?"

Oh.

My.

God.

Memories of that day slam into me. It was raw, animalistic, and mindless. And so good I blacked out.

That was Kai’s first time after five fucking years?

My pulse spikes. In so many ways—it was my first time, too.

I need him. Alone. Right now. Because there is nothing more provocative than knowing that a man with steel-clad control broke for me—and still made it feel like heaven.

I don't think I've ever been more turned on in my entire fucking life.